Post by Rafar on Dec 18, 2016 3:31:39 GMT
Training Gravity Resistance x10
Heavy Weights Equipped!
Rafar sat cross-legged in the center of his training room, his old sword lying across his knees. With all the fighting he had had recently, he knew that he needed to be training 24/7 to catch up to Retsu and the others, and yet, is felt like something was holding him back. No matter how hard and long he trained, his power increased minimally at best, and didn’t increase at all at worst. There was also….another thing. Something he had been thinking about ever since he had walked into the scorching interior of his home to find his father’s broken and bloody body laying across the stone floor. Slowly, tightening his hand around the leather hilt of his blade, raising it to eye level and staring into the reflection that the metal showed, thinking of his past.
A 9 year-old Rafar grinned excitedly as he launched ki blast after ki blast into the mountainside, causing landslides by the dozen as the rock steadily withstood the beating. He had been coming here after school for months now sharpening his skills so that he could one day grow as strong as his warrior father. It wasn’t that his father wasn’t supportive in his goals, he was just ALWAYS BUSY and never had time to train his only son. His mother had died in childbirth, so it was just him versus the galaxy!
As the twin moons rose into the skies of the red planet, Rafar eased the door of his home open, shutting it quietly behind him. He was honestly unsure of how his father would react to his sneaking off on his own, into the wilds of Vegeta. “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!??!” Rafar nearly jumped through the ceiling, but instead whirled and threw a punch at the figure behind him. Celrath coughed, and caught the kid’s punch easily, their power gap was truly immense. “You worried me there kid, at least try to inform me when you’ll be training all day ok?” The young warrior looked up almost sheepishly, "Ok Dad!”
With a guttural yell of fury Rafar hit the training droid approaching with every last drop of his ki, sending it flying into the wall. Tears ran down his face as he was shaken by racking sobs. He hadn’t thought about his father for months, instead pushing the indictment to the back of his mind to avoid the emotions it stirred up within him. He scrambled to his feet, gripping his blade tightly, “COME AT ME!” The training program deployed more training droids, this time with swords of their own. He leapt into battle with his sword aflame, trying to expend all of this sorrow on the unfeeling automatons.
Rafar was older now, perhaps 11, swinging his newly acquired blade in the practice sequences he had been instructed in. He slashed and parried like he was fighting for his very existence, yet his only foe was the dust choked air surrounding him. He had been defeated yet again by one of his classmates, the big brute of a child smashing him aside like he was no more than tissue paper. “GOD DAMMIT!!” Rafar’s power exploded, his pitiful 1,000 units showing themselves to the world for all the good it would do. No matter how hard he tried, how long he trained or what techniques he learned to try and surpass his foes, all it ever got him was pain, and sorrow. “Hey kid, how about calming down before you destroy the only home we got?” Rafar’s aura vanished with an almost guilty twitch as he was startled out of his concentration. Celrath sighed, “Look boy, I know you’re frustrated, but let’s try not to get the neighbors on our case too.” Rafar tilted his head, “What do you mean ‘too’ Dad?” His father coughed, “It’s nothing Rafar, continue with your sequences.”
Rafar weaved a net of ki and steel around his body, making the programmed movements of the training droids seem clumsy in comparison. He had TRIED so hard to surpass everyone, Retsu, NOXA, even Levilidan, but he just kept falling behind no matter what he did. The last time he had seen the Bio-Android, the simplest punch from her would have probably tore his chest cavity open like it was no more than a wet piece of paper, yet he had once been able to fight her, at least on slightly even terms. Retsu had always been much stronger than him and Levilidan’s new form had made his best efforts a joke. He needed to be stronger! Otherwise, he would always be a hindrance to his allies, never an asset.
The 13 year-old’s blade stopped at the neck of the student, the other Sayian froze in fear. “Student Rafar wins, and proceeds to the next round!” The crowd clapped politely, but there were more boos then cheers, but the young fighter didn’t care. He just wanted to go home.
Celrath’s position within the Sayian military was growing ever more precarious as intrigue among his subordinates blossomed into full on hatred. Two soldiers, Zarak and Brant, grew especially hateful, loathing the high position and power of Rafar’s father. Like moths to a flame, the poverty-stricken residents of the small family's neighborhood sensed the weakness of Celrath in allowing these insults to stand. Every day, the street outside their small house grew ever more dangerous to a kid whose strength was low for his age.
Carefully locking the door behind him, Rafar walked over to where his father sat with his face buried in his hands. Celrath looked up quickly, light reentering his hopeless eyes, “Cmon kid. I want to show you something.” They flew together out to the wastelands of Vegeta, where he gestured for Rafar to draw his sword like he had done. “Look Rafar, the Marotta family has never been the strongest of our race, and probably never will. It’s our tactical minds, and our swordplay that makes us great fighters.” To demonstrate, Celrath flicked his rapier, sending a razor thin line of ki into the mountain side. At first it didn’t seem to do much, but then the top of the mountain slid clean off! Rafar’s eyes widened in wonder, could he do that! He turned to his father, “Teach me, please dad.” Smiling for the first time in what felt like years, Celrath simply nodded in response.
Rafar’s knees hit the floor, thoroughly exhausted. The chamber around him showed scratches and scrapes, markings of his sword. The training droids were all but destroyed, some even had had their heads cut off. Rafar looked around sheepishly, “Looks like I need some new training droids.” Before he left the chamber however, he held up the blade to eye level once again. Maybe….he should try to once again to master the ways of the Marotta.
Heavy Weights Equipped!
Rafar sat cross-legged in the center of his training room, his old sword lying across his knees. With all the fighting he had had recently, he knew that he needed to be training 24/7 to catch up to Retsu and the others, and yet, is felt like something was holding him back. No matter how hard and long he trained, his power increased minimally at best, and didn’t increase at all at worst. There was also….another thing. Something he had been thinking about ever since he had walked into the scorching interior of his home to find his father’s broken and bloody body laying across the stone floor. Slowly, tightening his hand around the leather hilt of his blade, raising it to eye level and staring into the reflection that the metal showed, thinking of his past.
A 9 year-old Rafar grinned excitedly as he launched ki blast after ki blast into the mountainside, causing landslides by the dozen as the rock steadily withstood the beating. He had been coming here after school for months now sharpening his skills so that he could one day grow as strong as his warrior father. It wasn’t that his father wasn’t supportive in his goals, he was just ALWAYS BUSY and never had time to train his only son. His mother had died in childbirth, so it was just him versus the galaxy!
As the twin moons rose into the skies of the red planet, Rafar eased the door of his home open, shutting it quietly behind him. He was honestly unsure of how his father would react to his sneaking off on his own, into the wilds of Vegeta. “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!??!” Rafar nearly jumped through the ceiling, but instead whirled and threw a punch at the figure behind him. Celrath coughed, and caught the kid’s punch easily, their power gap was truly immense. “You worried me there kid, at least try to inform me when you’ll be training all day ok?” The young warrior looked up almost sheepishly, "Ok Dad!”
With a guttural yell of fury Rafar hit the training droid approaching with every last drop of his ki, sending it flying into the wall. Tears ran down his face as he was shaken by racking sobs. He hadn’t thought about his father for months, instead pushing the indictment to the back of his mind to avoid the emotions it stirred up within him. He scrambled to his feet, gripping his blade tightly, “COME AT ME!” The training program deployed more training droids, this time with swords of their own. He leapt into battle with his sword aflame, trying to expend all of this sorrow on the unfeeling automatons.
Rafar was older now, perhaps 11, swinging his newly acquired blade in the practice sequences he had been instructed in. He slashed and parried like he was fighting for his very existence, yet his only foe was the dust choked air surrounding him. He had been defeated yet again by one of his classmates, the big brute of a child smashing him aside like he was no more than tissue paper. “GOD DAMMIT!!” Rafar’s power exploded, his pitiful 1,000 units showing themselves to the world for all the good it would do. No matter how hard he tried, how long he trained or what techniques he learned to try and surpass his foes, all it ever got him was pain, and sorrow. “Hey kid, how about calming down before you destroy the only home we got?” Rafar’s aura vanished with an almost guilty twitch as he was startled out of his concentration. Celrath sighed, “Look boy, I know you’re frustrated, but let’s try not to get the neighbors on our case too.” Rafar tilted his head, “What do you mean ‘too’ Dad?” His father coughed, “It’s nothing Rafar, continue with your sequences.”
Rafar weaved a net of ki and steel around his body, making the programmed movements of the training droids seem clumsy in comparison. He had TRIED so hard to surpass everyone, Retsu, NOXA, even Levilidan, but he just kept falling behind no matter what he did. The last time he had seen the Bio-Android, the simplest punch from her would have probably tore his chest cavity open like it was no more than a wet piece of paper, yet he had once been able to fight her, at least on slightly even terms. Retsu had always been much stronger than him and Levilidan’s new form had made his best efforts a joke. He needed to be stronger! Otherwise, he would always be a hindrance to his allies, never an asset.
The 13 year-old’s blade stopped at the neck of the student, the other Sayian froze in fear. “Student Rafar wins, and proceeds to the next round!” The crowd clapped politely, but there were more boos then cheers, but the young fighter didn’t care. He just wanted to go home.
Celrath’s position within the Sayian military was growing ever more precarious as intrigue among his subordinates blossomed into full on hatred. Two soldiers, Zarak and Brant, grew especially hateful, loathing the high position and power of Rafar’s father. Like moths to a flame, the poverty-stricken residents of the small family's neighborhood sensed the weakness of Celrath in allowing these insults to stand. Every day, the street outside their small house grew ever more dangerous to a kid whose strength was low for his age.
Carefully locking the door behind him, Rafar walked over to where his father sat with his face buried in his hands. Celrath looked up quickly, light reentering his hopeless eyes, “Cmon kid. I want to show you something.” They flew together out to the wastelands of Vegeta, where he gestured for Rafar to draw his sword like he had done. “Look Rafar, the Marotta family has never been the strongest of our race, and probably never will. It’s our tactical minds, and our swordplay that makes us great fighters.” To demonstrate, Celrath flicked his rapier, sending a razor thin line of ki into the mountain side. At first it didn’t seem to do much, but then the top of the mountain slid clean off! Rafar’s eyes widened in wonder, could he do that! He turned to his father, “Teach me, please dad.” Smiling for the first time in what felt like years, Celrath simply nodded in response.
Rafar’s knees hit the floor, thoroughly exhausted. The chamber around him showed scratches and scrapes, markings of his sword. The training droids were all but destroyed, some even had had their heads cut off. Rafar looked around sheepishly, “Looks like I need some new training droids.” Before he left the chamber however, he held up the blade to eye level once again. Maybe….he should try to once again to master the ways of the Marotta.